


safety room

by orphan_account



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: FAHC Au, GTA V AU, Gen, geoff is there for .2 seconds, no established jrmwd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2020-02-10 21:25:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18668665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: “are you longing for something?” the vagabond asks through his teeth. “are you searching for an answer?”where rimmy tim isnt with the crew yet—he’s their biggest pain in the ass.





	safety room

**Author's Note:**

> lowercase is on purpose. title pulled from my a—. lol

“are you longing for something?” the vagabond asks through his teeth. “are you searching for an answer?”

he’s speaking in a dark and cold room. the black curtains have been drawn closed, and the door is missing it’s cold, silver handle. the room itself is the size of a studio apartment, flooded with an arsenal only a madman would have. ammunition is scattered around the room, whether it be bullets spilling out of boxes, or ones already shot off and split down the middle by the impact of the metal walls. the metal walla radiate such a cold feeling, something no person should ever experience. 

in the vagabond’s hand is a knife, a butterfly to be exact, that he keeps flipping around and fidgeting with. his breathing is ragged and heavy, appearing as if he’d been in a fight shortly after his question. he tastes blood in his mouth, and has to swallow the metallic feeling due to the mask that’s around his face. the mask clings, thanks to the warm sweat rolling off of his face and into the creases of the mask. 

“do you gain anything?” he asks, and his eyes lock with the other body in the room. 

this body is coated purple and orange, but appear muted and dark thanks to the room. it’s on the floor, trying to lift itself up. it’s arms shake, blood rolling down from it’s biceps. the vagabond knows who this is—infamous bandit rimmy tim. 

rimmy finally rises his upper body, spitting blood on the floor next to him. he pulls his legs into a bent position, balancing his weight on the flats of his knees and the locked position of his arms. he spits again, more blood coming out of his mouth. it rolls from his nose into his mouth and across his swollen lips. he feels the warmth of it roll from the top of his head, too, coming from his widow’s peak. 

the room’s tension is worse than before; rimmy refuses to answer any question he’s given, nor would he even think about thanking notorious villain the vagabond for saving his life. rimmy roughly adjusts the bandana, the yellow almost choking him around his neck, and rips it off.

“why do you try and fuck with us?” the vagabond asks, his blood beginning to boil. he watches with malicious intent as rimmy finally stands, uneasy with his feet. “what’s the goal with trying to fuck with another gang? it’s you and that’s it. you against the five of us.”

rimmy wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, blood smearing along his bruised knuckles and healed battle scars. he makes a face, pushes his lips together into a line, and looks up at the vagabond through his sunglasses. 

they stare each other down, the vagabond almost fed up with the silence and roughness of the room. rimmy keeps his stare, brown eyes burning with an envy no one understands.

“to,” rimmy starts, and his voice is rough and scratchy. he coughs, blood spurting from his mouth and onto the cold floor. it barely misses his shoes. “to get more.” he puts his hand over his mouth and coughs again, blood seeping through the cracks of his clamped fingers.

the vagabond laughs, the bitterness of it ringing off the metal walls. “be more specific. what do you mean ‘to get more?’ more what?” he steps towards rimmy, and rimmy immediately pulls out a gun with his other hand. blood keeps falling from the hand over his mouth.

“come any,” rimmy croaks, removing his hand and whipping it once in hopes of getting the blood off of it. “come any closer, and,” he breathes, and he takes a staggered step towards the vagabond. “and you will… will end up in hell.”

the vagabond takes another step, and he hears rimmy cock the gun. he takes another step, the barrel of the gun pressed in the center of his chest. “try. you don’t have the willpower.”

rimmy looks up at the vagabond, the height difference more apparent. his hand shakes a little, the intimidation setting in to his nerves. “yes i do,” he coughs directly on the vagabond, arching his back and keeping his head down. his gun begins to slide down as well, and he fires a blank into the ground. 

“you haven’t killed anyone, have you?” the vagabond hits the gun out of rimmy’s hand and removes the rest of the guy’s clunky disguise. 

off comes the tan cowboy hat, the vagabond throwing it off to the side. then the sunglasses, which he crushes with his fist and throwing the shards behind him. he pushes on rimmy’s shoulders, tilting him back upward and watching red fall from the poor man’s head and mouth. then comes the purple suit jacket, which is riddled with holes from previous attacks. he folds it and lets it go, listening to the soft ‘pomf’ noise it makes off the floor. he rips at the holes in rimmy’s shirt and examines the wounds.

“why,” rimmy coughs, “why won’t you kill me.” blood keeps spilling from the corners of his mouth. “i’m weak enough.”

the vagabond sighs and puts his arm around rimmy, lifting rimmy’s left arm and throwing it over his shoulder. he puts his right arm around the side of rimmy, offering a support for the man to feed off of. without grabbing a hold of rimmy’s left arm, though, he takes a step forward and remembers that they’re trapped—temporarily.

“geoff,” the vagabond mumbles, pressing his finger against an earpiece along his left ear. “i’m in the safety room with jeremy.”

jeremy lifts his head up in fear at the way vagabond says his name. “how,” he whispers.

“jesus, ryan,” geoff’s voice comes through the other side and into the room, where jeremy can hear the name. “you sound terrible. i’ll send jackie.”

ryan nods, even though geoff can’t see him, and looks to the terrified jeremy. he grabs a hold of jeremy’s left arm to support him more, and lugs him towards the door.

“we’ve been looking for a sniper like you,” ryan starts, the trace of disappointment in his words. “but, you fired blanks, didn’t you?”

jeremy shakes his head. “real,” he mumbles, swallowing a thick puddle of blood in his mouth. “my pistol is blanks. i don’t use it.”

ryan makes an ‘ah’ sound, low and bass-heavy. “why?”

jeremy shakes his head and makes a motion of putting his finger to his lips. ryan slows his breathing, keeping long pauses of deep inhales and exhales as low as they can get. jeremy’s breathing, short and shallow, is also silenced in some way.

there’s heavy footsteps coming towards them. it’s the sound of a deep, bass voice.

the door pops open, and jackie stands in the doorway. her hawaiian shirt is stained red, and her white shorts hugging her thighs is practically a shade of pink with a couple cold washes. her heavy frame is intimidating enough for jeremy to cower in fear, hiding his face behind ryan’s muscular build.

“christ, ryan!” she yells, her deep voice reverberating along the metal walls. “did you almost die getting here?!” she takes a generous look at the crumpled man. “and use our new member as a meat shield?! jesus!”

ryan shakes his head and hands jeremy off to jackie, who takes him with ease. he turns around and grabs the neatly-folded purple jacket, finally peeling his soaking wet mask off his face. 

it reveals a stoic face, chiseled and well-rounded in all the right areas. there’s heavy eye bags under his narrowed eyes, accompanied by the tiredness of his eyelids. blood coats his cheeks, obviously coming from the grazes of bullets on his skin. his mask is ripped at the corners, signifying a good, hefty fight went down. he finally spits blood from his mouth, his lips already scabbed and swollen from how many punches he took to the face. his beard is scruffy and dry, and when he goes to rub his face, he finds there’s his own dried blood in it.

“i tried saving him,” ryan replies, keeping his head hung low. “but i guess it wasn’t good enough.”

**Author's Note:**

> dk if ill continue it to have some jrmwd but take it for now.


End file.
